


The Bloody Partie de Cartes

by MoshiMoshiTitanDesu



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Basically, FACE Family, Humor, M/M, SO, Well - Freeform, also, but meh, if there actually is one, just read idk, kind of, maybe in another chapter, not really - Freeform, rated T for swear words cause its safer like this, the only plot twist is when France goes to the bathroom, there aren't any real ships, there's FrUk but it's just veeeeery implicite, this is meant to be funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:37:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6650644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoshiMoshiTitanDesu/pseuds/MoshiMoshiTitanDesu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starring Francey-pants, That Hero Dude, Who the Fuck is that and Bloody Tea-y Iggy.</p><p>Basically four idiots playing cards. I don't know man, I wanted this fanfic to exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Le tas de merde

**Author's Note:**

> SO before reading it's better to know that they're in Paris, at France's place, and they're playing a game called 'tas de merde' (dunno the name in english)  
> aaaaaand that's it, enjoy!  
> (I also would like to apologize for the shittiness of this fic and its presence on this black hole. The internet, that is.)

Here they were again.  


And Francis could not recall how the hell they got there.

America was completely still at his right. Francis knew a silent Alfred wasn’t a good sign. The American looked in complete concentration, his features clenched, his eyes narrowed, and he was beginning to move _oh so slowly,_ thing that made Francis want to slap him and make him return to his normal noisy self.

It felt like a lifetime of intense staring at Alfred’s hand before he actually got it off of the card he was passing at his right.

France and everyone around the table sighed like an enormous threat had just disappeared. After this moment of relief, Arthur picked Alfred’s card and looked at it suspiciously. Mmh, a Jack. Interesting. Did he need it? Maybe. Maybe not. Should he keep it?

“Mon chéri, you’re taking more time than Alfred if that’s possible. Hurry up and pass a card.”

“Shut up, frog.”

England glared at him. Mostly because he was right. Not that he would ever admit it.

He decided to keep the Jack and handed a King to Canada.

“Who got the Queen of hearts, again?” asked Alfred while Canada was considering what to do.

“It’s Angleterre, imbécile. This is at least the fifth time you ask.”

America’s grin returned. “Haha! Of course I didn’t forget! Just wanted to confirm!”

England rolled his eyes. “Obviously.’

“Obviously!” America adjusted his glasses. “Because a hero never forgets anything!”

Matthew looked up from his cards.

“Francis,” he called shyly. France turned his head.

 “Oui? Ah, thank you.”

He took the card Canada had placed on the table and oh mon Dieu, was that a King? Perfect, here is France going for the win. He smirked internally. England was going to lose. Again. He really was bad at this game. Bref, he needed to get rid of this Ace.

“Here, it’s your turn Amérique.”

“Thanks Frenchy!”

“Enfoiré.”

“Francis!” snapped Matthew.

“What?” asked France with a not-so-innocent expression. Matthew frowned at him.

“Stop swearing at Alfred.”

Said Alfred turned his head to shoot a glance at that freaking Frenchman.

“Dude, wait, you mean, he’s been insulting me the whole fucking time?”

“Wasn’t it evident?” asked Matthew with a raised eyebrow.

England sighed. “Alfred, are you done yet, give me my bloody card.”

“Yes, Alfred, espèce d’idiot, give a card à mon cher Arthur.”

“Imma get that smugly smile off your face, you dick,” grumbled America to France whose smile only widened.

“Alfred!” pressed him England.

“Fine, fine! Here, take it!”

Ugh, those three always made fun of him, because he was young and blah blah blah... But he was the freaking hero! He couldn’t let that pass! He was gonna win this game and show them who’s the best here. Alfred smiled at himself at the thought of kicking their ass. When suddenly, he snapped out of his dreams, hearing the sound of France’s hand hitting the pile of cards on the table.

“HA!”

All the others put their hands on France’s as fast as they could. Matthew was the first to react, then Alfred was following and Arthur was last, but he slammed his hand so violently that Alfred let out a little “ouch!” and England mumbled an apologize.

“Too slow, mon ange! You lost again!” chirped France as he laid down his cards on the table and everyone did so.

“That’s because I was picking up Alfred’s bloody card! Why am I always the last one reacting?”

“Chill bro, are you seriously letting such a stupid game get on your nerves?” America’s tone wasn’t matching his words and he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“Maybe some tea would help, mon chaton.”

“What are you even calling me?!”

Matthew smiled inwardly. Speaking both French and English, he could always tell what was saying Francis, and he knew since a long time that Francis always called Arthur cute nicknames like darling and such, while he insulted Alfred everytime he could. By the way, why hadn’t England figured that out yet? Didn’t he speak French by now? Canada found it quite weird that even after all this time spent with Francis, England still couldn’t understand everything he was saying.

Back to the game. Francis was distributing the cards once again.

America was very pleased by the set of cards he’d just got. Two Aces, one Jack and one King. He loved Aces.

Francis started the new game. America took the card he was handed and saw it was another Ace. Aha, those jerks were _so_ going down.

Another quiet five minutes of playing passed without anyone talking. The only sounds you could hear were the faint scratching of the cards, the sighs one of them would let out every now and then, and Francis humming some French song.

All of a sudden, he got up and slammed his hands on the table. Arthur lifted his head up.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom,” simply answered Francis. And with that, he left, the others watching him go.

Arthur sighed after a while, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the silence that had settled in. It somehow felt wrong when it was only the three of them. He could clearly sense France’s presence missing. Did Canada and America feel the same way or was it just him...? He would just assume they felt the same. (He knew it was just him of course, but it was one of the numerous things he would never admit. Arthur didn’t like admitting things that had to do with Francis. It was just too embarrassing.)

“England,” said America.

“Yes?”

“You’re blushing.”

“And you’re daydreaming too,” added Canada.

Arthur opened his mouth to deny it but he hadn’t had to deal with this, thanks to Francis who got back at this very moment, saving him.

“Alors,” he said. “Whose turn is it?”

“Mine,” said Canada with his little voice, and he passed one of the cards he had in hand to Francis. As soon as the Frenchman touched the card, Arthur slammed his hand on the pile of cards in the center of the table and everyone followed. Alfred was last.

“Fuck!”

“Stop swearing, Alfred,” slyly smiled Arthur, very proud of himself for not losing for once.

“Don’t fucking laugh at me like that, you piece of shit!”

“Attention, America,” warned England, “you wouldn’t want Russia knowing that you got Coca-Cola all over his scarf, _would you_?”

Alfred kept his mouth shut. He didn’t even dare imagine what that Ruski would do to him if he found out. How did Arthur even know about Ivan’s scarf, anyway? Shitty Brit.

A moment passed. They started another game. Canada started. France played. America played. England played. Canada played. Francis yawned. He played. America played. England played. At Canada’s turn, he took England’s card and hit the pile of cards. England unexpectedly lost. Francis stretched his arms and sighed of tiredness.

“Bon, time to go,” he declared, looking at his watch. The sun was going down. Everyone nodded.

The cards were gathered and put back into their box.

Canada and America said their goodbyes and left, Francis shutting the door behind them. Then he turned to England with a smile.

“You’re staying the night, pas vrai mon amour?”

Arthur smiled back.

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not write another chapter. And yes, this is a crappy excuse for writing some FrUK


	2. Oops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Im sorry this isnt a real chapter im just bored and fucking around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me

"Arthur," Francis began "I want you to make love to me."

"Okay," said Arthur sensually.

Then they fucked.

 

* * *

 

 

~le next day~

 

Arthur woke up in Francis's bed feeling very well. The place next to him was empty. He got up and walked to the kitchen where Francis was cooking French stuff.

"I'm making breakfast," he said.

"Could you make some tea ?" asked Arthur. "Or rather, could you tell me where the tea is and I'll make it because your tea is awful."

"Look who's talking," said Francis with a poker face.

"Just tell me where the tea is."

"I don't have tea."

Then Arthur died.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup  
> But theres a real chapter coming up dont worry


End file.
